King Viserys and his council members occupied the council room. Otto Hightower, Hand of the King; Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Master of Ships; Lord Lyonel Strong, Master of Laws; Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin; and Grand Maester Mellos. Daemon and Aegon stayed in hiding as they listened to the council discussing, mainly Otto doing the talking.
"These recent tragedies have left you without an obvious heir," Otto said.
"The King has an heir, my Lord Hand." Lord Corlys interjected.
"Despite how difficult this time is, Your Grace," Otto said, ignoring Corlys, "I feel it is important the succession be firmly in place for the stability of the realm."
"The succession is already set," said Lord Lyonel, "by precedent and by law."
"Shall we say his name?" Lord Corlys said as he sat down in his seat, not wanting to play the charade and be honest, "Daemon Targaryen."
"If Daemon were to remain the uncontested heir," Grand Maester Mellos stated, "it could destabilize the realm."
"The realm? Or this council?" Corlys asked.
"No one here can know what Daemon would do were he king," Otto reasoned, "but no one can doubt his ambition. Look at what he did with the gold cloaks. The City Watch is fiercely loyal to him. An army 2,000 strong."
"An army you gave him, Otto." Viserys reminded his Hand." I named Daemon Master of Laws, but you said he was a tyrant. As Master of Coin, you said he was a spendthrift that would beggar the realm. Putting Daemon in command of The City Watch was your solution!"
"A half-measure, Your Grace." Otto admitted, "The truth is, Daemon should be far away from this court."
"Daemon is my brother," Viserys reminded with a warning look to all the council members, "My blood. And he will have his place at my court."
"Let him keep his place at court, Your Grace," Mello began to say, "but if the gods should visit some further tragedy on you, either by design or by accident-."
"Design?" Viserys repeated, staring at the Grand Maester, "What are you saying? My brother would murder me, take my crown? Are you?!"
The council members said nothing as Daemon hid behind the wall as he listened to his brother.
"Daemon has ambition, yes, but not for the throne," Viserys defended his brother as Daemon chuckled softly, "He lacks the patience for it."
"The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power, Your Grace," Otto said grimly to the king, who stared at him.
"Under such circumstances, it would not be an aberration for the King to name a successor."
"Even so, who else would have a claim?" Lord Lyonel asked as the council stayed silent, waiting for the answer.
"The King's firstborn child or perhaps his second born child," Otto answered.
"Rhaenyra? Aelys?" Lyonel asked in disbelief, "Women? No queen has ever sat on the Iron Throne."
"That is only by tradition and precedent, Lord Strong," Mellos stated.
"If order and stability so concern this council, then perhaps we shouldn't break 100 years of it by naming a girl heir." Lyonel shot back at Mellos as Daemon listened closely as the council debated.
"Dameon would be a second Maegor, or worse." Moreover, Otto reasoned, "he is impulsive and violent. It is the duty of this council to protect the King and the realm from them." Viserys looked at Otto while his Hand continued. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but that is the truth as I see it, and I know that others here agree."
"I will not be made to choose between my brother and my daughters," Viserys said.
"You wouldn't have to, Your Grace." Lord Corlys said, "There are others who would have a claim."
Lyonel then laughed, "Such as your wife, Lord Corlys. The Queen Who Never Was?"
"Rhaenys was the only child of Jaehaery's eldest son." But, Corlys said, "She had a strong claim at the Great Council, and she already has a male heir."
"Just moments ago, you announced your support for Daemon!" Otto interjected.
"If we cannot agree on an heir, then how can we expect-" Lyonel began to say as the tension rose.
"My wife and son are dead!" Viserys then shouted at his council, who then became quiet. "I will not sit here and suffer crows that come to feast on their corpses!"
And with that, the king got up and walked out of the council chambers after having enough debating on who should be his heir as he was still grieving for his wife and son.
The pendant a dragon-shaped amulet, around her neck, a constant presence since her father's gift, felt particularly heavy now. Aelys had sought refuge here among her dragons after the devastating losses she had endured, hoping the presence of her loyal companions would provide solace. Its intricate design seemed to dance with the shadows, the metallic surface reflecting a myriad of hues as she turned it gently between her fingers. The inscription on its back, 'fire and blood,' seemed to pulse faintly with a hidden energy, drawing her attention as if it were whispering secrets just beyond her grasp.
Aelys took a deep breath, her eyes locked on the pendant as she studied its details. The elegant dragon design seemed almost alive, its eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. The inscription, though clearly etched, had always felt like an enigmatic puzzle, one that had eluded her understanding until now. The recent events, coupled with her heightened emotional state, had made the pendant's mystery feel more urgent and poignant.
As she examined the pendant, Aelys noticed a subtle shift in the way the light played across its surface. It was as if the pendant was guiding her towards something, a hidden message or a forgotten secret. Driven by a mix of curiosity and desperation, she moved closer to the ancient stone wall of the Dragonpit enclosure, where she knew there were hidden compartments and forgotten corners.
Aelys's fingers traced the contours of the pendant, and as she did so, she felt a faint vibration emanate from it. The sensation was barely perceptible, but it was enough to stir a sense of anticipation within her. She knew that the pendant held more than mere decoration; it was tied to her family's legacy and possibly to her own path forward.
She turned her attention to the stone wall, her gaze scanning the ancient surface for any signs of hidden mechanisms or compartments. The wall was worn and aged, with deep grooves and cracks that spoke of centuries of history. She ran her hands over the surface, feeling for any irregularities that might indicate a secret passage or hidden space.
Her fingers brushed against a slightly raised section of the wall, and she paused, a spark of realization lighting up her eyes. She pressed gently on the area, and to her surprise, a small section of the wall shifted open, revealing a hidden compartment. Her heart quickened with a mix of hope and trepidation as she reached inside.
The compartment contained a small, weathered scroll, its edges frayed and delicate. Aelys carefully withdrew the scroll and unrolled it with trembling hands. The parchment was ancient, its surface adorned with the elegant, flowing script of her great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen.
As she read the inscription, her breath caught in her throat. The scroll contained detailed instructions on how to hatch dragon eggs using the ancient method of 'fire and blood.' The words spoke of a ritual involving the burning of dragon eggs in a roaring flame, accompanied by the sacrifice of another creature, a life given in exchange for the life of the dragon.
Aelys's eyes widened as she absorbed the information. The connection between the pendant's inscription and the ancient ritual was now clear. The pendant, with its cryptic 'fire and blood' message, had been a key to understanding this hidden aspect of Targaryen legacy.
A mixture of emotions flooded through her—shock, understanding, and a renewed sense of purpose. The pendant was not just a memento but a guide to a profound and powerful tradition. With this knowledge, Aelys felt a sense of resolve take root within her. She would honor her family's legacy and use this ancient wisdom to ensure the survival and strength of her dragons.
As she reexamined the pendant, now imbued with newfound significance, Aelys felt a spark of determination. She would follow the instructions, embracing the ancient ritual to honor her family's heritage and to find a way forward through her grief and loss. The path ahead was still uncertain, but with the pendant's guidance, she was ready to face it.
The next day, Aelys held the ancient scroll with trembling hands, the weight of its secrets and the implications of its contents settling heavily upon her. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows over the delicate parchment, illuminating the elegant script that detailed an ancient and arcane ritual. Her heart raced as she deciphered the instructions written by her great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys I Targaryen.
The scroll spoke of a ritual long forgotten by the modern Targaryens, a process of hatching dragon eggs that involved the creation of intense flames and the sacrifice of another life. The ritual required the eggs to be placed in a blazing fire, a blaze that must be accompanied by the life of another creature being consumed in the flames—an offering of life for life. The text was both fascinating and chilling, and its implications were profound.
Aelys's fingers traced the words on the parchment as she tried to absorb the gravity of the ritual. The idea of using such a dark and ancient method troubled her, but she also felt a deep connection to the legacy it represented. This was part of her family's heritage, a tradition that had been part of their history for centuries.
She sat down on a nearby stone bench, the scroll spread out before her as she considered the ramifications of what she had discovered. Her gaze shifted to Morghul and Syraxia, who had approached her with curious eyes, sensing the change in her demeanor. Morghul's dark scales gleamed softly in the torchlight, while Syraxia's blue hues seemed to reflect the somber mood of the moment.
Aelys looked at Morghul, his massive form a symbol of the strength and power of her house. She could not help but feel a deep sense of responsibility towards him and Syraxia, especially now that she understood more about the ancient rituals that bound her family to their dragons.
"I have found something," she said softly to the dragons, her voice carrying a blend of resolve and uncertainty. "A way to honor the legacy of our house, and perhaps to bring new life into our world."
Morghul rumbled softly, and Syraxia let out a gentle, encouraging whine. Their responses were comforting, reminding Aelys that she was not alone in this endeavor. The ritual described in the scroll was daunting, but the bond she shared with her dragons made her feel that she could face the challenge.
She carefully rolled up the scroll and secured it within her tunic, intending to keep it safe until she could study it further. The Dragonpit, though filled with the echoes of her grief, now felt like a place of potential and transformation. The scroll had revealed a path forward, a way to honor her family's traditions and ensure the survival and strength of her dragons.
Aelys stood up, her resolve strengthening as she looked around the Dragonpit. The ancient space, with its sprawling stone walls and the majestic presence of her dragons, seemed to hold a promise of renewal and hope. Despite the weight of her grief, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.
"I will find a way," she vowed softly, looking at Morghul and Syraxia. "I will follow the path laid out by my great-grandfather and honor our heritage. I will ensure that the dragons of House Targaryen thrive."
Later that night, Daemon was celebrating thinking that he would be king now with the young Prince dead which didn't go over too well with his elder brother and was about to find out as Daemon walked towards his brother. Viserys on the Iron Throne, wearing his crown and having the sword that belonged to Aegon the Conqueror named Blackfyre.
"You bear the image of the Conqueror, brother," Daemon commented.
"Did you say it?" Viserys asked him.
"I don't know what you mean," Daemon said, not knowing the situation.
"You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue." Viserys threatened, surprising Daemon. "The Heir for a Day, did you say it?"
Daemon then looked to the side and then at the floor, realizing what was happening. "We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace." It was all Daemon could say, and he looked up to his brother.
Viserys stared at him and said, "My family has just been destroyed. You chose to celebrate your own rise! Laughing with your whores and your lickspittles!" The king shouted in pure rage. "You have no allies at court but me! I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I've given you, you've thrown back in my face."
"You've only ever tried to send me away." Daemon argues, "To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but by your side. Ten years you have been king, and not once have you made me your Hand."
"Why would I do that?" Viserys asked in disbelief.
"Because I'm your brother." Daemon answered, "And the blood of the dragon runs thick."
"Then why do you cut me so deeply." Viserys then asked as his lip began to quiver.
"I have only ever spoken the truth." But, Daemon said, "I see Otto Hightower for what he is."
"Otto Hightower is a more honorable than you could ever be." Viserys dismissed
"He doesn't protect you; I would." Daemon urged.
"From what?" Viserys asked.
"Yourself," Daemon said as his brother stared at him, "Your weak, Viserys and that council of leeches know it. They will prey on you for their own ends."
"I have decided to name a new heir," Viserys said as he laid back on the throne.
"I'm your heir." Daemon reminded.
"Not anymore," Viserys replied, "You are to return to Runestone and to your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without quarrel. By order of your King." He finished with an authoritative tone in his voice.
Daemon tried to walk up to his brother until the Kingsguard blocked him with swords at the ready. Then, realizing that there was nothing he could do, all Daemon could say, while looking at his brother with a sad face, was, "Your Grace." He slowly turned and walked away from the throne room.
Viserys lifted his hand to rub his head from the headache he got from the ordeal, but as he did it, he got cut from the thrones and saw he was bleeding but ignored it.
The following day, with the scroll clutched tightly in her hands, Aelys made her way back to the Dragonpit, her steps purposeful and steady. The weight of the ancient ritual hung heavily on her mind, but she also carried a renewed sense of determination. She needed to see her dragons, particularly Morghul and Syraxia, and the clutch of eggs they had laid together.
The Dragonpit was a cavernous space, filled with the comforting warmth of the dragons' presence. As Aelys entered, she found Morghul and Syraxia resting near a carefully constructed nest, a place of deep, natural stone surrounded by mounds of soft, worn bedding. The dragons were attentive and alert as she approached, their powerful forms silhouetted against the dim light of the chamber.
Aelys's gaze was immediately drawn to the clutch of dragon eggs nestled within the nest. The eggs, five in total, were a striking sight, their appearances reflecting a range of colors and textures that spoke to their unique heritage.
The first egg, sitting prominently in the center of the clutch, was a deep, rich shade of emerald green. Its surface was smooth, with delicate, swirling patterns that seemed to shimmer as the light caught them. The green egg had a lustrous quality, almost as if it were polished, and it emitted a subtle, calming glow.
Next to it was an egg with a more subdued hue—pale gray with a faint, opalescent sheen. The gray egg was slightly larger than the others and covered with a fine, network of cracks that gave it a textured, ancient appearance. The opalescent quality of the egg caught the light in a soft, iridescent display, hinting at the mystery it held within.
The third egg was a vibrant blue, its surface speckled with flecks of silver that twinkled like stars. The blue egg was somewhat smaller but possessed a radiant, almost electric energy. The silver flecks formed intricate patterns that swirled around the egg, creating an effect reminiscent of a night sky.
The fourth egg was a warm, golden hue, resembling molten lava in its appearance. Its surface was dappled with small, dark spots that gave it a textured look, and it seemed to emit a faint, almost imperceptible warmth. The golden egg's color was reminiscent of the dragon's fiery breath, a visual testament to its potential power.
Finally, the fifth egg was a rich, dark purple, its surface smooth and unblemished. The purple egg had a velvety sheen and seemed to absorb rather than reflect light, giving it an enigmatic, almost otherworldly presence. The dark hue of the egg hinted at hidden depths and untapped potential.
Aelys crouched beside the nest, her eyes moving from one egg to the next, each one a testament to the powerful bond between Morghul and Syraxia. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering over the eggs, feeling the faint warmth radiating from them. The sight of the eggs, each so unique and beautiful, filled her with a renewed sense of purpose.
She glanced back at Morghul and Syraxia, both dragons watching her with attentive eyes. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, a shared understanding that the next steps were critical. Aelys knew that the ancient ritual detailed in the scroll was not just a ceremonial act but a necessary step to ensure the survival and strength of these future dragons.
With a deep breath, Aelys rose to her feet, her resolve strengthening with each passing moment. She knew what needed to be done. The ritual of 'fire and blood' would be a challenging and solemn task, but it was a vital part of her family's legacy and the future of her dragons.
As she prepared to leave the Dragonpit to arrange the ritual, Aelys cast one last, lingering look at the clutch of eggs. Each one represented a fragment of the Targaryen legacy, a promise of renewal and strength. With the weight of her grief still present but tempered by the hope of what lay ahead, she felt ready to honor her family's traditions and forge a path forward for herself and her dragons.
In the following days, Viserys send ravens to carry messages to all the Lords of Westeros to come to King's Landing to kneel and swear fealty to Rhaenyra and acknowledge her as their future queen of the realm. Each lord came and did as they were ordered by the king and vowed to defend Rhaenyra's rights as king. While this happened, Prince Daemon got on his dragon Caraxes, known at the Blood Wyrm for having a worm-like neck with red scales, and flew to Dragonstone.
After the lords finished swearing their allegiance to Rhaenyra, she turned to her father as he stood up from the Iron Throne.
"I, Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Thrones," Viserys stated as the whole court bowed in acknowledgment.
Rhaenyra then turned to the court with a nervous look before she took a breath, realizing that she was now the heir to the throne. Aegon stood there with his wife and son as he looked at Otto Hightower, wondering why he was smiling. Aegon can tell that Otto has something planned, but he does not know what it is, but now he understands what Daemon said was true. So Aegon decided to stay in King's Landing to protect his family from outsiders who have personal gain, including the Hand of the King.
The Dragonpit was silent except for the soft rustling of Aelys's gown as she moved through the cavernous space. The five dragon eggs, nestled together in a secluded corner, seemed to shimmer with latent energy, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim torchlight. Aelys's heart pounded with anticipation and anxiety as she prepared for the ritual.
Syraxia, her massive blue form lying gracefully beside the eggs, watched with calm, intelligent eyes. The dragon's presence was a source of comfort and strength for Aelys, who had come to see her dragons as both family and allies. Today, Syraxia would play a crucial role in the ancient Targaryen rite, a tradition steeped in both power and sacrifice.
Aelys had carefully transported five dead deer into the Dragonpit, their bodies draped over a wooden cart. She now approached the eggs, setting the carcasses down with a mix of reverence and sadness. The deer were the sacrifice required for the ritual, a somber reminder of the price demanded by the ancient magic. Aelys arranged them in a semi-circle around the eggs, their lifeless forms lying still in the cold stone of the Dragonpit.
She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Syraxia's as she gently touched the dragon's scaled snout. The ritual's success depended on Syraxia's cooperation, and the bond between them would guide the process. "It's time, Syraxia," Aelys whispered, her voice steady despite the gravity of the moment.
Syraxia responded with a low, reassuring rumble and lifted her head towards the carcasses. With a deep breath, she unleashed a controlled stream of fire, her flames dancing across the deer and the surrounding area. The intense heat of the fire roared and crackled, the flames consuming the prey with a swift and powerful intensity. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, a stark reminder of the life that was being sacrificed for the ritual.
Aelys watched with bated breath as the fire continued to blaze. She stood close enough to feel the heat but far enough to remain safe from the flames. The pendant around her neck seemed to hum in resonance with the ritual, its inscription a silent witness to the ancient tradition.
As the flames began to subside, the firelight cast eerie shadows across the walls of the Dragonpit. Aelys's eyes were fixed on the eggs, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. The once-vibrant flames slowly died down, leaving only smoldering embers and the faint scent of burnt wood and flesh.
When the last of the flames flickered out, Aelys moved closer to the eggs, her excitement barely contained. She saw the first signs of movement as the glossy surfaces of the eggs began to crack and shift. The tiny, delicate dragons inside struggled to emerge, their small, fragile bodies pushing through the remnants of their shells.
The Dragonpit was shrouded in the dim, flickering light of the torches, the air heavy with the mingling scents of burning flesh and stone. Aelys stood near the five dragon eggs, her gaze fixed on the husks of the former flames that had ignited their potential. The moment had come—the eggs were beginning to crack, revealing the life within.
The first egg to hatch was the deep, emerald green one that had occupied the center of the clutch. As the shell fell away, it revealed a dragon with scales of the same rich green hue. The dragon was elegant, with a sleek, sinuous body and large, expressive eyes that glowed with a calm, intelligent light. Its wings were a slightly darker shade of green, creating a beautiful contrast. The green dragon stretched its tiny limbs and let out a soft, inquisitive cry, exploring its new world with a graceful curiosity.
Next, the pale gray egg cracked open, revealing a dragon with scales that matched its egg's subdued shade. This dragon was slightly larger than its siblings, with a fine, network of faint silver lines running across its body, giving it a textured, ancient appearance. Its wings were semi-transparent with an iridescent sheen, catching the light in a delicate display. The gray dragon's demeanor was more reserved, but its eyes shone with a quiet strength and wisdom.
The third egg, with its vibrant blue surface and flecks of silver, revealed a dragon that was as radiant as its shell. The dragon's scales were a brilliant azure, with silver specks that shimmered like stardust across its back. Its small, sleek form was lively and energetic, reflecting the electric energy of the blue egg. The dragon's wings were patterned with streaks of silver, and it fluttered them excitedly as it took in its surroundings.
The fourth dragon emerged from the warm, golden egg, its scales a molten gold that seemed to glow with an inner heat. This dragon had a textured appearance, with small, dark spots scattered across its body, mimicking the egg's surface. The dragon's wings had a fiery, radiant quality, and it moved with a confident, almost regal grace. Its fiery breath, even at this young age, hinted at the potential power within.
Finally, the dark purple egg revealed a dragon with a rich, velvety purple sheen. Its scales absorbed the light, creating a mysterious and almost otherworldly aura. The dragon's body was sleek and streamlined, with wings that seemed to merge with the shadows. It moved with a quiet, enigmatic grace, its deep eyes reflecting the hidden depths and potential hinted at by its egg.
As Aelys gazed at the five newborn dragons, each a living testament to the ritual's success, her heart swelled with pride and joy. The dragons were a perfect match for their eggs, each one embodying the unique characteristics and potential that had been awakened by the ancient rite.
She bent down to gently touch the soft, damp scales of the newly hatched dragons, her tears of joy mingling with the smiles on her face. Each dragon looked up at her with curious eyes, their tiny wings fluttering as they took in their new surroundings. Aelys's sense of accomplishment was profound, knowing she had successfully performed the ancient ritual and awakened the dragons.
"I think I'm gonna name each of you Verdant, Cerulea, Inferna, Solaris and Lunara." Aelys said with pride, wiping a tear at the five new dragons brought into the world.
Yet, as the initial euphoria began to settle, a sobering thought crossed her mind. The knowledge of this ritual, with its profound power to hatch dragon eggs, was a secret that could be devastating if misused. The ancient magic of 'fire and blood' held immense power, and the implications of its misuse were chilling.
Aelys straightened up, her gaze shifting to the still-smoldering remains of the sacrifice and the precious new lives that now filled the Dragonpit. Her joy was tempered by the weight of responsibility. This knowledge was a treasure, but it was also a potential threat if it fell into the wrong hands. She resolved to protect the secret, ensuring that the ancient ritual remained a sacred and guarded part of Targaryen heritage.
With a final, tender glance at the newborn dragons and Syraxia, Aelys gathered the remnants of the ritual, making sure to handle everything with care and respect. She knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but the sight of the new dragons filled her with a renewed sense of purpose.
As she prepared to leave the Dragonpit, Aelys's heart was a mix of hope and caution. She had cracked the key to dragon hatching, but the responsibility of guarding this powerful secret weighed heavily on her. The ancient magic was now part of her legacy, and she was determined to protect it, ensuring that its power was used wisely and only for the good of her dragons and her people.